While You Were Dreaming

‘You know I don’t believe in all that “The One” stuff, Jen. Come on…’ He extended his arm in a warm gesture, but she just looked at him blankly.

‘Just think about what I’m saying, Michael.’

He looked at Jen and knew that if he began to explain, she just wouldn’t understand.

‘Michael, I am not getting any younger–neither of us are. And I’m sick of waiting. For some reason you seem to think we have all the time in the world. Newsflash: We don’t!’

‘Jen–’

‘I’m sick of you coming round here when you please, without a thought for me. I don’t even have a toothbrush at your flat! You don’t even like me coming over!’

Because, he wanted to reply, my flat could double up as a rubbish tip and I’d much rather you didn’t see it. Especially as you own your own flat, drive a decent car and buy your hair stuff from Self ridges! Whilst I don’t have anything to give you really. Nothing of value. Not at the moment anyway, but someday. Soon. Definitely.

Yes, when he got his act together, things would be different and only then would he begin to live the life he’d always craved–now he just had to tell Jen that, knowing that he’d probably sound like a commitment-phobe.

She continued. ‘And I’ve only met your family twice. Both times in the supermarket. By accident!’

‘Well it’s not as if we’re in a proper re–’

The expression on her face switched to frightened anguish…and so he shut up.

‘What did you say?’ Her eyes squinted and then widened just as quickly. ‘What am I doing?’ she said to herself with a hint of resolution.

She ran her hands through her hair as if to physically get her head straight.

‘What am I doing?’ she reiterated.

‘Jen…’

‘Michael, please leave,’ she then said, her demeanour suddenly composed.

‘Jen, I’m sorry,’ he said, meaning it. Making her all upset was never part of the plan; he still cared about her after all.

‘No, I’m sorry. It’s over, Michael.’

As he walked the short walk from the bus stop to his flat, he realized that, whilst he’d hated hurting Jen, he couldn’t shake off the huge feeling of relief he’d felt ever since she’d said; ‘It’s over,’ just over thirty minutes ago. They’d hugged, she’d stuffed a couple of gifts he’d given her into his pocket, and they’d said their goodbyes like the civilized human beings they were. It felt right. And if it felt right, then it must be…right. Jen was a nice enough girl and he really hoped she would find someone else. A bloke who would appreciate her more and be able to give her what she needed. And she would, he was sure of that. In fact, he had to believe that, otherwise he’d feel like the biggest bastard ever to have walked the streets of South-East London.

So, he was free to focus on what really counted at the moment: getting a promotion, moving out of the flat and into his own home; oh, and mustering up the motivation to put those wheels into some type of credible motion.

And he would find it.

Somewhere.

He hoped.

FOUR (#u32eab303-6cdc-5a31-9c93-15fc2175ab0b)

Two and a half weeks later…

‘She just looks asleep to me,’ said Ade.

‘Peaceful,’ said the nurse.

‘Do you think so?’

‘Serene even,’ she added.

‘I’ve never seen her look so beautiful.’

‘Oh, give me a break! She looks far from beautiful hooked up to a tube and I’d much prefer it if you stopped talking about her like she’s dead! She’s just been asleep for a while, that’s all!’ Eleven days, actually. ‘And she’s not going to be here much longer, either. Doesn’t anybody get that?’ Now Cara was feeling irritated. Again. In fact her moods switched from hopeful, to hopeless, to frightened, to angry, and all the way through to irritated. She was beginning to forget who she was.

‘No, you’re right,’ said Ade awkwardly as the nurse with the northern accent shifted nervously on her feet, as if to say, ‘who are you trying to kid? The longer this girl stays like this, the worse it will be for her when she finally comes round.’

But Cara knew different. She knew that Lena would soon be out of that manky bed and safely following her round a branch of Kurt Geiger ready to spell out the disadvantages of spending £150 on a pair of killer heels when half of that money could be used to buy a couple of goats for a third world village. Then they’d go to Lena’s favourite cheapo noodle bar off Old Compton Street where Millie would show up late with no money and Cara would turn her nose up at every limp and greasy dish, wishing she was in her favourite local Thai restaurant instead, with its nicely dressed waitresses and dishes that sounded like islands. They’d eat, then chat for a bit, before each rushing off to start their night shifts: Cara at the bar, Millie off out with her mates (along with a loan from Lena), and Lena to the kids’ telephone helpline where she had worked for the past four years. Funny, the last time the three of them had managed to get together at the Noodle Bar was just before the accident.

Cara turned her gaze away from her sister lying on that bed, hair in a multicoloured Alice band, and gazed around the hospital room. She hated hospitals, she decided. Luckily she hadn’t had much to do with them over the years, apart from the obligatory visit when one of her friends had a kid. She’d rush in, armed with flowers and a teddy bear (which Ade had bought), counting the minutes until she could leave.

This time, though, she was going nowhere.

She’d been in every day for almost two weeks now and was getting used to the sight of people rushing about armed with flowers, their faces painted with worry, fresh-faced junior doctors with spiky hair studying charts, consultants swanning about with an air of self-assured arrogance. She was a part of that now, and not just some bystander who’d happened to tune into a rerun of ER. This was real life. This was her life. For now.

Thankfully, her sister’s hospital room was away from everything and looked clean at least. But it was bland and lifeless. There was a small window and a tiny side-cabinet on which stood a small vase containing a less-than-fresh arrangement of flowers, lemongrass oil moisturizer for Lena’s hair, Vaseline for her lips, cocoa butter, a plastic comb, and a box of pink and yellow tissues.

The walls were a beigy neutral colour and a faded picture of a Victorian bloke with a huge nose hung on one of the walls–an attempt to bring some cheeriness into the room.

‘We need to stay positive, yes. We have to.’ Ade’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She hated that he didn’t sound convinced. Was she the only one who knew her sister would soon wake up? The doctors were hopeful. Lena was breathing for herself. Things had improved. Okay, stayed the same–but she was hopeful, and she didn’t need anybody telling her different or she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions. People needed to stay positive. For Lena. For her…

Time at the hospital involved sitting by the bed, willing Lena to wake up, and trying to work out how this had all happened. Why her sister was asleep on an alien bed underneath a picture of some bloke they didn’t even know the name of. Why, why, why? She knew it was doing no good asking such questions, but it just felt easier to turn her thoughts into anger and then direct them at a certain person. Justin. Lena’s boyfriend, who was, as far as she knew, the last person to see her awake. She swallowed hard, and tried to push him from her mind. He’d keep.

Instead, she thought about the bar and when she could put in a shift. This was important for two reasons: 1. She would probably go mad with all the things festering in her mind as she sat by the bed every moment of every day, thinking about the whys and the what-ifs; 2. The barmaid Eliza (Doolittle), currently left in charge with Ade, would probably bring them one step closer to bankruptcy, what with the amount of glasses she got through in a day. So, no, going back to work by no means meant she was giving up on Lena, no matter what that tiny voice in her head kept on saying. She’d do a few shifts, whilst still coming to the hospital every single day to see her sister.

Cara ran a beautifully manicured hand through her short crop and wondered where on earth her other sister–Millie–had got to. She was meant to be here by now and was late.

‘I thought your sister was supposed to be here?’ Nurse Gratten remarked, as if reading her thoughts. Cara ignored her and peered at her watch again, wondering where indeed her irresponsible little sister had got to. Or rather, into whose bed she’d climbed.

‘Cara…’ began Ade in a ‘I want to chastise you like a little kid for ignoring the lovely nurse, but we’re in a public place and oh, I should know better than to try that, if I ever want to share a bed with you again’ voice.

‘Ade’, Cara interrupted him, ‘this is the third time she’s been late. Doesn’t she get it? Lena’s stuck in here and yet that doesn’t seem like a big enough disaster to force her to get her act together. She’s such a kid!’

‘Don’t upset yourself.’

‘I can’t get any more upset! We’ve a bar to run and she can’t just swan in when she feels like it!’ she snapped. She was aware she was taking her feelings out on the wrong person, but she also knew Ade could take it. They’d been together for over ten years; he knew her ways. And he knew how much she loved him.

‘She’ll be here,’ whispered Ade into her ear, his taut, strong arms enveloping her in a hug. At well over six foot tall, Ade was strong enough to hold onto her, whether she resisted or not. But it was as if she needed to resist in order to fully appreciate what he was offering: love, protection, safety.

He held onto her before she managed to pull away from him and turn her gaze back to Lena and the situation as a whole.

Actually, the whole situation was ridiculous. Lena, the most careful person in the whole world–she wrote lists, for Pete’s sake!–tripping over a shoe, indeed (a bloody shoe?)! Falling down the stairs. Ending up in this hospital bed. Hard to believe, yet it was all so very, very real. The doctors had tried everything they could but nothing seemed to be working with Lena. And, as each day passed, she could see the doctor with the bad teeth becoming ever more doubtful as her sister remained in that deep sleep, fed by a nasogastric tube, the odd reflex action reminding family and friends gathered around that she was actually still alive.